


Super Nova

by kuro49



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Characters Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a metaphor that has to start somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Nova

**Author's Note:**

> The post-movie fic that I tend to write, most of it on the night I watched the film in theatre, fixed up a month later. But damn this movie really digs in.

It’s a metaphor.

When Curtis Everett breathes in the stench like it’s air, the stale and the grit would fill his lungs, expanding until he can’t take much more. He tries not to remember dirt on his hands, just grime that doesn’t come off of his hands now, staining them like dry blood would.

He is not unfamiliar to this, seventeen years of it kind of dulls the horror and the shine, not that he hates himself any less, not that it changes a single thing he’s done. The rust in the metal and the rumbling that shakes their entire world, they are all simply running in a circle.

It’s a metaphor that has to start somewhere.

 

It’s balance.

The pungent stink of people packed like sardines in the tail end. They don’t see sunlight, and warmth is a thing that has long since seeped from their bones, but Edgar does alright.

He doesn’t know his mother, and he doesn’t know his father. The earliest memory of himself is captured in a sketch the Painter passes him when he’s old enough to understand that life is this, that it will always be this. The edge of the paper is ragged, the black lines like streaks and smears.

This is what he knows: Gilliam, and what must be Curtis standing within the frame.

The Painter tucks it into Edgar’s hand with an expression like he wants to say more but just shakes his head and smiles that crooked smile before leaving Edgar all to himself.

It’s balance that’s bound to break someday.

 

It’s safety.

The fact that this box resembles a coffin does not escape him. It also doesn’t make placing Yona in a matching one any easier. But Minsu has held out hope for an entire year, their baby girl in his arms, Yona who will grow up outside of these metal boxes linked up one after another, just to see white and ice and that it isn’t about to change so soon.

He collects his Kronole and he waits.

His little girl with her arms and legs growing longer, his child with her senses sharpening against the groan of metal and the footsteps that come down the hallway stretching from left to right, and right to left, and back, and back, as they lay there in their coffins and await their deaths.

It’s safety that he would gladly give this world up for his child.

 

Somewhere, at the front of the train, a message is written and passed down.

(It's order.)

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
